Page 134 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

She stares at our hands, sniffling. Finally, she nods and a fissure in my heart heals.

“Good, because we need to be a team to support Pops. And each other.” I puff out a breath. “You ready for this?”

“No.” She laughs. “But I’m as ready as I’m gonna be. Nice accent, by the way. Guess I just have to rile you up to make you sound like yourself again, huh.” She smiles.

I look behind her and see Pops following Mark outside, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging down. Even from a distance, I can tell he’s gained weight. It looks good on him. And when he looks up, for the first time since coming back home, a little bit of my long lost faith gets restored.

His eyes are clear and alert. And although he isn’t smiling, there’s an aura that isn’t quite as dark around him. Like the grief he wore as a cloak has been stripped off his back.

Pops and Mark sit down in the two chairs opposite us. It’s a circular table, but somehow Pops seems the farthest away, the feeling of how our relationships have eroded over the years manifesting in the space between us.

“Hi again, you two,” Mark greets.

I attempt a smile, but it’s all I can force, the heaviness of the day starting to wear on my shoulders until I feel the throbbing low in my spine.

“Today isn’t going to be a ‘session’ per se,” Mark continues. “Just a visit for everyone to catch up. I’m only here to moderate in case things veer into topics Craig doesn’t feel comfortable handling.”

“So, Pops,” I start. “How ya doing? You look good.”

Pops nods, resting his elbows on the table, causing it to shift slightly. “I’m doin’ alright. But I won’t lie, the urge to bust outta here and grab a drink is mighty strong today, knowin’ I’d have to see y’all.”

Lee scoffs. “Are you really blamin’ us?”

Mark leans forward, cutting in. “Lee, Craig is just expressing his struggle today and that’s something we should honor. It isn’t easy facing the people you’ve hurt with your addiction.”

My stomach squeezes. I don’t understand much about what Pops is going through and what this process entails, but that feeling of facing people you feel like you’ve let down? That’s a feeling I understand well.

“I’m not—I’m not blamin’ you, Alina. I’m just bein’ honest. Facin’ you is hard. It was hard when I was two bottles of whiskey deep, and it’s hard now that the shame is showin’ its face. I look at you and I see your mama. It hurts.” His palm rests over his heart, his gaze bouncing between us. “I look at both of you and see all the ways I failed you.”

My heart stutters, waiting—needing—him to elaborate.

He doesn’t.

Lee sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Okay, I’m sorry, Daddy. It’s good you’re here. I’m happy to see you.”

Pops’s lips lift just a smidge.

Mark clears his throat. “Craig, why don’t you tell them about group two days ago.”

At this, Pops does smile, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a coin, laying in on the table. I lean in to see.

“What’s that?” Lee asks.

“That’s my sobriety token. Thirty days.” Pops’s chest puffs, and my own chest swells at seeing a bit of the man who raised me filter through the cracks.

“That’s incredible, Pops. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, Daddy, thirty days is amazin’.” Lee’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears and she blinks them away. “I’m so dang proud.” She looks down at the table, fingering the pile of pamphlets. “Mama would be proud, too.”

Her words lodge themselves in my throat and my heart thumps out in pain at the mention of Ma.

Pops’s face twists—the sorrow painting itself on his features—grief swirling through his irises. His hand snaps out and picks up the coin, his thumb rubbing one side, his fingers white-knuckling the other.

“You get one of those every month?” I change the subject back to something lighter, my eyes flickering to Mark who nods in encouragement.

The rest of our time is light. Surface level. But it’s a nice visit, and it relieves some of the worry that was ruminating low in my gut at not knowing whether Pops was taking this seriously.

We’ll have time to talk about the heavy. Time to figure out where we go from here, once he comes home and faces his recovery, and his punishment. He still has court for the accident, after all.

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